"Target is static, looks as if he doesn't suspect a thing," Harley said into his earpiece, watching the demon with the scope of his sniper rifle. It would be an easy kill tonight. Just as the demon seemed to think that something was up, Harley pulled the trigger, letting the blessed bullet implant itself in the forehead of the demon's face. "Target has been silenced."

His mouth twisting into a grin at his victory, he called for a bagging team before standing up from his vantage point. He packed his gun into its case, making sure to detach the scope and put the lens over it beforehand and then picking up the single shell casing. Moving through the hospital building with ease afterwards, no one giving him a second glance surprisingly, he was able to get out onto the streets without any trouble. "I'm taking a shortcut through the park, m'kay?" he asked his superior, who was on the line with him. "I'll meet at HQ at 0900 tomorrow, sir."

Whistling a soft tune to himself, he began walking into the large, wooded park he had practically grown up in, taking the scenic route to his home.

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

What had started as a dispute over food had turned into something far more deadly. Two demons had gotten into a very dangerous and vicious battle, leaving the trees around them full of deep gouge marks and hellfire scorches. The source of their fighting was huddled nearby, terrified at what was happening before her eyes. She didn't flee until the smaller of the two demons screamed at her to run. She didn't know why. She'd never seen that man before in her life. He was a stranger. Just like the other stranger. And they were both so scary...

The fight didn't last much longer after the little homeless human girl fled to safety. The larger of the two demons had really done a number on the smaller one, leaving him lying in a pool of his own blood just off the path through the park. He'd heal, but it would take time. Time that he quite possibility didn't have. If discovered, he felt sure he would be killed. What human would allow an opportunity to easily kill a demon pass them by?

His vision was fading rapidly, his russet eyes failing to do their job. Even though everything was so blurry, he could still see the figure of the little girl he'd saved kneeling beside him. She'd come back. And she was crying. Why was she crying? For all she knew, he'd been intending to eat her himself. Why come back for a demon? She was even running her hand through his long black hair, not seeming to care that she was getting his blood on her hands.

Neither of them noticed that someone else was walking along the path toward them.

Harley hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings when he smelled blood. More importantly, demon blood. Quickening his step, he made his way towards the smell. All hunters had innate senses to detect demons, and the ability to smell their blood was one of them, even if it was only a little.

Pale green eyes sweeping over the wooded landscape, they fell upon two figures, one lying in a pool of something wet and sticky, the other kneeling over him. Immediately, Harley identified the one lying down to be a demon. No others seemed to be around, though they might be masked by the smell of blood.

Taking the knife off of his thigh holster, he slowly approached, careful to stay in the shadows in case the other figure was defensive of the demon. After a while of quiet observation, Harley was unable to contain his curiosity any longer, and approached the two. It was odd to find an injured demon. Normally, they were already dead or alive and kicking.

"Hello," he called into the clearing before revealing himself, his gun case held in one hand, the knife concealed with the other hiding just behind his body. "What happened here, some sort of attack?" Looking to the girl, he pushed his light hair out of his eyes. "I'm not here to hurt anyone, promise," he added, figuring that the girl was probably scared out of her mind.

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

The girl was indeed scared, but she seemed almost relieved that a grown-up was around. Her blue eyes were red from crying, and fresh tears were running down her cheeks. She nodded at his question. "He's hurt..." she said, obviously referring to the demon. "Is he going to die?" She sounded afraid of that possibility, her hands gripping the fabric of her dirty pants more tightly.

She obviously had no idea that the man was a hunter, but the wounded demon knew. He tensed up at the hunter's approach, the small movement making his wounds flare with pain. A choked gasp escaped him, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. It was just his luck to be found by a hunter when he was in no condition to defend himself.

The girl went back to petting the demon's hair when she saw his distress, acting like a child would with a scared kitten. It would have been touching, if not for the fact that it was a demon she was petting and not, in fact, a kitten.

"Maybe he will," Harley said with no hint of remorse in his voice. Why would he care if a demon died? It's what he did for a living, and one more would be nothing. Setting his gun case a foot away from the demon, he knealt down next to him, sheathing the knife. Whether he would die or not, it was obvious that he wouldn't be moving any time soon.

Turning to the girl after pretending to examine the demon's wounds, he handed her ten dollars. "Here, go buy some rubbing alcohol and as many bandaids as you can." Giving his attention back to the demon, he tried to imagine how the hunters could've not known about this. The wounds obviously weren't from a hunter, the cuts were too jagged and uneven, and the girl looked too skinny to do such a thing to a demon. When two demons clashed in the middle of the city, it was usually amazing and hard to miss.

Sighing, he prayed that the girl would just go without a fight. This was a job for hunters, not humans.

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

The girl took the money with a nod, seeming eager to help the demon. She actually kissed the demon's forehead and said, "I'll be back. Please don't die," before getting up and running off to the nearest convenience store to buy the supplies the hunter had asked for. She just hoped she could get the stuff in time. Even though she knew her fallen savior wasn't human, she was still afraid he might die. She had to hurry...

Back in the park, the demon looked up at the hunter. "Thank you for sending her away," he managed to say, his voice sounding strained. "That was decent of you...since you are going to kill me now that she is gone..."

As soon as the girl was gone, the demon spoke to Harley. "Perhaps," he answered cryptically. Looking down at the demon, he felt the knife against his thigh. "But I have been fancying the idea of having an ace up my sleeve. Guns and knives aren't always the thing you need to kill a demon. Sometimes you need the help of a demon...if you understand my meaning." As he let the information set in, he took out his knife again, creating a barely veiled threat to the demon.

He looked away for a moment, thinking as he stared off into the distance. "If the girl's smart, she'll take the money and buy herself food...God knows she needs it, by the looks of her. "

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

The demon looked up at the hunter in confusion. "You would seek to enslave me?" he asked, his displeasure at the idea plain to see. But he had no choice in the matter. Not right now. He couldn't fight the hunter off. It would be very easy for the hunter to just carry him away. No doubt he had some kind of blessed room to trap him in, if he'd been considering doing this for a while. There was nothing the demon could do.

When the topic turned to the child, the demon just gave a laugh that sounded more like a choke. He spat out more blood, coughed, then said, "She will return to me, I am sure..." He didn't sound happy about that, either. He'd prefer for the girl to stay away, too.

Harley gave the demon a wane smile. Without warning, he hoisted the demon up over one of his shoulders, standing up. Using his other hand, he picked up his gun case, having put his knife away. Ceremony absent, he continued on his way to his home. No one paid him any mind as he did so, the slight magic every hunter had allowing him to create a glamor that made it so it appeared that the hunter and the demon were merely a pair of friends walking down the street.

When they arrived at his home, a nicer two-story in a good part of town, he set down his gun case only to unlock the front door. Carrying his things into the house, he set down the case just inside the door before continuing on to the second floor. Unlocking a door to a room in the upstairs hallway, he walked into it, feeling the weight of the blessings on him immediately as he walked inside. There wasn't much in the room, just a bed and an empty nightstand. Setting the demon down on the bed, he stood above him, looking down at him silently.

"What is your name, then?" he asked. "Or are you one of those who don't have a name and I need to give you one?"

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

The demon bit back a scream as the hunter picked him up. His body was in no condition at all to be moved, much less carried like a sack of potatoes by a hunter who didn't really give a shit about his current state. At least he was getting his blood all over the hunter's clothes. That was a plus. Have fun washing the blood out, asshole.

He managed to keep himself from making pained sounds on the way to the hunter's place, but he couldn't hold back a cry as he was carried into the blessed room. So it would seem he'd guessed correctly about that. Damn it... He was really going to be stuck here. And in pain. These rooms were not made for the comfort of a demonic occupant.

"If you want to be a bastard and force a name on me, that's your business," he seethed, not pleased about this situation at all. "I do have a name, and I do not feel inclined to tell you."

"Ah, really, then?" Harley asked. "Should I pay a visit to that little girl? I'm pretty sure that she would still be around the park." He got up, deciding to change and let the demon think about it. He locked the door behind him as he went, glad that the blessed room didn't have a window. Going to his own bedroom, he frowned at the fresh blood that would surely stain the nice white shirt he had been wearing. Changing quickly, he went downstairs to the laundry room, setting out his stained clothes and putting stain remover on the splotches.

Leaving that for the moment, he returned to the blessed room, unlocking it and stepping inside. Leaning against the door, he said, "So, do you wish to give up your name willingly, or should I find your little girlfriend?"

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

The demon was actually offended by the implication that the child was his girlfriend. It would do the hunter no good to find the child, though. She didn't know who the demon was. Unless the hunter was implying that he'd hurt the child if he didn't give his name...

"Razael," he seethed, growling deeply in his throat as he glared at the hunter. "Pleased?" The hunter had better be. He'd very much pissed off the demon, and it was a very good thing--for the hunter--that Razael was in such bad shape. Otherwise he'd probably be attacking the hunter right now.

"Very much so," Harley answered. "I was about to go buy a tin of kerosene and a lighter, but it seems I won't need those anymore." Giving the demon an empty smile, he asked, "So, what sort of threats will it take to get you to not attack me as soon as your better?" He fixed the demon with a level gaze, once again flashing the silver blade of his knife. It was blessed, too, so if he cut the demon with it, it would feel worse than hell.

"Maybe I should just buy a cross to hang up in here, maybe right over the bed..." he trailed off, trying to appear as if he was in deep thought.

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

The demon growled at him, understandably angry over the hunter's threats. "No threat you could possibly make would cause me to do that, human," he hissed. He had every intention of attacking the hunter as soon as he was well enough to do so. Then he'd be free again, and he wouldn't have to deal with his giant load of bullshit. He wasn't going to become this hunter's secret weapon. Why the hell would he work for a human without getting something out of it in return?

The only way the hunter could keep him from attacking was probably to just tie the demon to the bed. That was the safest route. Unless the hunter got very creative with his threats.

"No threats, then," Harley mused, looking at the demon thoughtfully. "Then actions. What would I have to do to you, then? Hang you off a building by fish hooks? Waterboard you? Run a naked flame over your skin? Maybe I should rupture your eardrums with a stick? And those are just what I'd do. Any other hunter would be a thousand times worse." Harley thought of the mock executions he had been a part of. The first time, when he had been in training, that he had been forced to cut his name into the back of a demon. That demon still had the scars, too, last time Harley had seen him.

Sighing against the door, he crossed his arms over his chest, leveling his gaze at him.

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

The demon laughed at that, but the sound was harsh and pained. He wasn't outwardly showing just how much pain he was in right now, but it was enough to crush the will of your average human. Demons were made of tougher stuff, though. Razael was no exception. He could handle pain. He would heal. And yet this human was suggesting ways to torture him into submission. Good. Luck.

"Torture me all you like, human," the demon invited. "It will not change my mind." The hunter would likely try, but the demon really did hope he wouldn't. Just because he could handle pain didn't mean he enjoyed it. Well, in most situations. There were some where a bit of pain was actually a plus.

"Right, right," Harley answered, unbelieving. Leaving Razael in the room, he locked it behind him while he searched for the things he would need. Finding a few lengths of rope, he set them on his kitchen table. In a drawer next to his refrigerator, where he kept his kitchen utensils, all silver of course. Taking out a thin rod, one that had no other use than the one he was going to use it for. Taking the items back to the room, he held out his knife towards the demon.

"Any struggles will be met with punishment. Stay on the bed, demon." Approaching him slowly, he kept his gaze on the demon, not trusting him if he looked away.

I do both. If it's a plot I came up with, I like having most of the control of the story. If it's someone else's brain-child, then I let them take things where they want them to go. In either case, I do take suggestions on plot ideas and I'm more-than-willing to spout off the things my muses churn out for future plot points.

The demon couldn't have gotten up anyway, but he did show a bit of defiance by trying to sit up. That did count as staying on the bed, but it was a sign that he wasn't going to just lie there and let the hunter do what he wanted. Razael wasn't going to be his weapon. Ever. This wasn't going to happen. Not to him. This hunter could go find another demon. Razael wouldn't be used.

He wished his wounds would heal more quickly, but they had been made by the claws of a fellow demon. Such wounds took more time to heal, but Razael would have minimal scarring. That was good, at least. He hated having marks mar his skin.

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